“What, that I went to the flat in search of her? You bet she knows! Haven't you noticed the air of outraged virtue? If I have the least regard for her feelings or my own dignity, I shall keep my disgraceful conduct to myself. How long am I likely to be in jug?”
“I hope not more than a day or two. Don't annoy the police more than you can help.”
“The temptation,” said Kenneth, getting up and opening the door, “is pretty well irresistible!”
Hannasyde was waiting for him in the hall, and at the sight of him Kenneth's eyes gleamed. “Hush! Not a word!” he said. “This is where I fade out, skipping the leavetakings. On your way, my friend-the-Superintendent!”
Hannasyde, propelled towards the front door by an insistent hand on his elbow, looked back to say: “I'll send a man round to fetch what Mr Vereker needs. Would you ask Miss Vereker to pack a suit-case, Mr Carrington?”
“Tell her to shove my sketching-block in, and the usual appurtenances,” ordered Kenneth. “I'm going to do a series of black-and-white policemen. After you - Macduff!”
Giles went back into the studio. Violet was standing by the fireplace, her lips still tightly compressed, and a look in her face more of exasperation than concern. Leslie had put on her hat, and seemed to be on the point of departure. Antonia was lighting a cigarette from the stub of her old one. They all three looked towards the door as Giles entered, but it was Violet who spoke. “Well?” she said. “Where's Kenneth?”
“Gone,” replied Giles unemotionally.
“Gone!” exclaimed Antonia. “I quite thought you'd be able to think of something, Giles. Couldn't you get him out of it?”
“Not yet, Tony. Don't worry; he'll be all right.”